


Forget You

by writeforyou



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Old Age, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeforyou/pseuds/writeforyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik has Alzheimer's Disease. Charles has to help him go through it and watch the man he loves start forgetting their times together.</p>
<p>But not everything is forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget You

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【ec】忘记你之后](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094806) by [cYNthIaaaaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cYNthIaaaaaa/pseuds/cYNthIaaaaaa)



> Written for [this](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/11912.html?thread=22893448#t22893448) prompt on the xmen kink meme.
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

 

It was safe to say that, when Charles woke up to an empty bed, he panicked. He stretched and yawned and reached blindly to splay his hands what should have been a warm chest – even after ten years, it was a hard habit to break – but he didn’t. The bed was cold to his touch, and his eyes opened to stare at the white sheets, rumpled but empty.

Before, waking up to an empty bed would have been fine, normal even, Erik was a morning person, hating feel idle, but now, too long had there been hours before memories could be properly deciphered, if at all, and confused and terrified faces that broke Charles’ heart to witness.

Charles sat up quickly, throwing his legs rather violently from the bed, and standing up straight.  He quickly struggled to get a t-shirt over his head, before padding his way on bare feet around the bed and out in the hallway. His ears strained to hear Erik in the kitchen but there was nothing. It made his stomach tighten painfully.

It would be much worse, Charles reminded himself, if they were back there. He had to do that sometimes, when he felt alone and helpless on how to continue, on how to help when he could not make it better. Now, he wished there was someone to keep him steady, to remind him that Erik would be okay, that he wasn’t…

He wasn’t in the house. The rooms remained undisturbed, still and almost mocking in its emptiness. Charles told himself to breath. It was fine. Erik was going to be fine.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Charles repeated it like a mantra.

It had been hard when Erik was first diagnosed, Charles recognising the symptoms but not wanting it to be true. Erik had looked at him sorrowfully, as if it were Erik’s fault for Charles distress and Charles had clung to the man’s hand, just as long and angular, still youth, just worn from years of labour. The doctor had given him pamphlets and referred them to specialists who had given so much advice that it made Charles’ head spin. But he had tried. He had done his best.

At first, it wasn’t so bad – sometimes Erik would forgot why he had entered a room, or would blink blankly at the faces of Pietro and Wanda for a few seconds before he remembered. Then, he just never remembered, although he would pretend to.  He would sigh as if he were just being silly and accepted Wanda’s relieved kiss and let them talk, let the grandkids – there were so many of them, another one on the way soon – sit on his lap and relay Lorna with metal work suggestions that they all knew he had already given six times already but didn’t want to tell him. The breaks of confusion and understanding became less and less. Every morning, he would wake up and jerk from Charles touch, terrified and confused, and Charles would have to approach him carefully, as if wanting to get close to a wild animal, so that he could reintroduce his husband to the things that had made up their life together. Charles had tried sleeping in the spare room, to safe the pain and the heartache and the terror, but Erik always ended up asking him to stay, only for the same process to repeat again.

He had only completely disappeared once. It was one of the reasons why they had moved to the smaller home.  The Xavier family home would always be for the students that lived there, but it couldn’t be his home anymore. Not with so many rooms, so much land, the numerous places for Erik to wander and lose himself in. He had been gone for nearly six hours, older students and faculty searching for him whilst Charles tore his hair out in worry about what could have happened.

He had been in the woodlands, at the small lake that sat in the middle there. Charles hadn’t been there in a long time, not since he and Raven were children, and he had forbidden anyone from entering, too afraid that someone might get lost or hurt and be too far away from anyone who could help them.

He would always remember the look on Erik’s face, startled and confused as he bundled into sheets, wrapping around the thin pyjamas he had been wearing to bed the day before, and muttering about how he needed to go to town but had seemed to have lost his way.

Charles noted the lack of coat and shoes by the door and suspected the same thing may have happened again.  He rolled his shoulders to relax. Good. That’s good.  He wouldn’t have gone far then, Charles reasoned, headed into town maybe. Then all he would need to do is place a call to the police department – they had already been well informed of the situation – and then.

A knock at the door cut his thoughts short. He reached for the door absentmindedly, the lock clicking and the door scrapping the metal lining of its frame before silencing on the carpet. Charles’ heart stopped.

Erik was there. At first, he was just relieved that he was back, that he alive and safe. It made the tension drain from every pore and left him feeling strangely light. Erik was still in his pyjamas, checked this time and fuchsia – of course – with his coat carefully put on and his hat perched on his head. He was smiling widely and he clutched a bundle of flowers – rudely snatched from the neighbour’s garden, he would recognise those sunflowers anywhere.

Charles stepped a little closer curiously. “Erik.”

“Charles,” Erik greeted, voice smooth as ever, “You moved.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose so.”

“Is your mother in?” he questioned, eyes flickering to peer over Charles’ shoulder as if the woman would appear at any moment. Charles chuckled a little. Erik had always had an issue with his mother-in-law, just as she had always had an issue with him. Charles had suspected he would have danced quite happily on her grave at the funeral if that wouldn’t have upset his husband.

“No, my love. She…has been away for quite some time,” Charles assured.

Erik looked visibly relieved and took steps closer, reaching out to wrap his hand around Charles. Even after all these years, just the touch was enough to make him ache, to miss, to love. He clung on perhaps harder than was strictly necessary. Erik didn’t seem to care though, maybe he didn’t even notice, holding on just as urgently.

“Good, because I know the old bat would only try and get in the way.”

“Erik, what is this about?” Charles urged gently and the man looked suddenly nervous.

“Oh, yes, I suppose I should,” Erik started, took a deep breath and blurted the words, “Run away with me.”

Charles startled. Oh, he should have recognised this. He should have – it was the best day of his life, after all. Well, one of them.  The day that Erik had stormed over the mansion and had begged for Charles to be with him, to marry him, to be with him for the rest of their lives. At the time, it had been impulsive and he had been so in love with Erik. The best decision he had ever made was saying yes. Afterwards, his mother had told him that it wasn’t to last, that he had reckless and that he was too young for such things. Raven had been angry that she hadn’t been allowed at the ceremony.

He had been silent for too long, it seemed, lost in memories, because Erik’s smile drooped slightly. His head ducked and his hand tried to retract. Charles panicked and clung on tighter, refusing to let him leave.

“Run…” he cleared his throat, “run away to where?”

“Anywhere. Another state, another country. London, Berlin, Sydney. Anywhere you want to go,” Erik promised. “I don’t care. All I want is for you to be mine.”

“I am yours,” Charles whispered.  He blinked and a tear slipped and he sniffed loudly.

Erik frowned. “I’m not sure that’s the reaction I’m looking for by asking you this Charles.”

He wiped it away. “It’s a good thing, it’s a really good – I’m happy Erik.”

The man laughed, a sound that Charles hadn’t heard in so long, and squeezed his hand affectionately, thumb sweeping across the back. “Of course darling,” he said fondly.

Charles stepped forward, out of the house and onto the porch. He didn’t care that he was in his bed clothes, he didn’t care if he looked like a mess, he didn’t care that the neighbours were no doubt watching them from their windows. All he cared about was Erik, right there, just as he was in the memories, and still wanting to be there, with Charles. He cared about the memories, he cared that Erik was back. He cared because he had loved this man since he was eighteen years old, and the feeling he had when the question was first asked all those years ago, had never gone away. Even old and sick, Charles had never stopped loving Erik – and Erik would always love him back.

Charles realised that had been what he was afraid of. Afraid of losing everything to Erik’s disease. Afraid that Erik would never – not again – not without – but he does. He really does.

Charles knew he was crying harder then, and Erik’s hands pressed to his cheeks, fingers catching and brushing away the tears with a look of concerned on his face. Charles shook as he reached up to cover Erik’s hand with his own.

“Yes,” he choked out, “Yes, always yes. I…I’m yours.”

Erik’s grin was sharp and gleeful and triumphant. “And I am yours.”

Their kiss was desperate. Charles wanted to cling and never let him go but resisted, if barely. Instead, he just gathered the fabric of Erik’s coat and allowed himself those moments of physical affection that he had missed so much. Erik wanted to make it filthy, of course, and Charles’ body tingled at the promise. He pulled away with a laugh, “not where the neighbours can see”, and laughed happily when Erik groaned pathetically.

Charles pressed their lips together one more time, a silent promise of later that he couldn’t be sure would be fulfilled. Erik didn’t know that, of course. He just accepted it begrudgingly and with what had once been a usual display of dramatics.

Erik tugged on Charles’ hand, pulling him down the garden path. “Come on, quickly, before your mother returns.”

Charles’ laughter followed them across the lawn.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt and couldn't resist because wow. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think either here or on my [tumblr](http://gladers.co.vu)
> 
> Also, if you have any cherik or xmen related prompts that you would like me to write, leave me a message on my tumblr and I will get around to writing them as soon as possible :)


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